“It seems like everything has fallen back into place,” Cindy says before shoving a forkful of salad into her mouth. She was too tired to cook tonight, so we're doing things simple.
“It has. I can safely say that I'm pleased with the way everything has turned out.” I nod, batting a cherry tomato around in my bowl that's refusing to be stabbed by my fork.
“No more text messages from Derrick?” She looks up at me.
“Not since we last talked about it. I'm glad he's leaving me alone. I think he's realized that he can't drag me away from The Billionaires Club.”
“Hopefully, he'll find someone else to torture now.” She huffs.
I can't even imagine the type of girl who would end up with Derrick Wight and actually be happy. She'd have to be so independent that it didn't matter if he was around or not and have a sex drive that bordered on nonexistent. Only having sex twice a month drove me absolutely insane. I know it's not that important to a lot of women, though. Surely, there's someone out there for him. He had two long-term relationships before me, one of which resulted in marriage and divorce. His wife cheated on him, and sadly, I can completely understand why. Both of his ex's seemed like great women. The fact that I could sympathize with them should have told me that I needed to be running in the other direction.
“I'm not sure if there's anyone out there for him,” I say softly, though I know it's a lie. The man is attractive and charismatic. He'll keep hooking women in and leave a trail of broken hearts in his wake. I remember he told me once that he's never single for long. I guess that's not the case this time around since he's been trying so hard to get me back.
“And you and Croix are good now?” Cindy raises a skeptical eyebrow.
“It's all rainbows and butterflies and condoms and golden showers.” I smirk.
“Golden showers?” Her expression twists with repulsion.
“It's just a joke.” I wave my fork at her. “Croix is kinky, but he's not into anything like that.”
“I hope you're not either,” she mumbles.
I'm not. The only reason I said that is because it sounded more interesting than saying glitter and unicorns. Maybe I'll have to rethink my wording next time.
“And The Billionaires Club? How is that coming along?”
“Everything is as it was before. We changed a few things, but for the most part, it's the same. Now we're just fielding through applications and hoping that more billionaires show up to volunteer.”
“What happens if you don't have enough billionaires?”
“We open anyway. That's already been decided.” I glance out the window at a crow that has landed on the fence. “Rain or shine, with a handful of billionaires or a full house, The Billionaires Club will open.”
***
“Croix isn't here yet. Why isn't he here?” I cling to the front of Raj's blazer. Even though he refused to appear on the morning show, he still showed up for moral support. I'm more than grateful right now, especially since Croix is nowhere to be found and there's only thirty minutes left until we go on.
I arrived at the studio two hours early to get into hair and makeup. The day started off on a good note, minus the waking up super early part. Sitting backstage getting pampered was a nice change. I've never worn more makeup in my entire life, but I feel absolutely gorgeous. My heart pounded excitedly in my chest as I thought about Croix seeing me all dolled up. Now it's pounding for a different reason. My nerves have me so on edge that it feels like there's a softball stuck in my throat. No amount of water will make it go down. I'm sweating and panicky and all of the things a person shouldn't be right before they're about to go on live television.
“I'm sure he'll be here any minute now.” Raj puts his hands on my shoulders to stabilize me. “Calm down, Raven. It's going to be okay.”
“That's easy for you to say. You're not the one who could fuck everything up if they say the wrong thing.” The fact that he's grinning while he watches me fall apart is ticking me off.
“You're not going to fuck up. Have faith in yourself. I have faith in you.” He rubs my shoulders, but it does little to calm my nerves. The only thing that would calm my nerves at this point would be having Croix by my side.
I pace around backstage. They give me a folding metal chair to sit on, but I can't seem to keep my ass planted on it for more than a few minutes before I'm up and walking around again. For the first time since Croix let me try his coffee, I made myself a cup this morning. Now I'm regretting it. The jitters from the caffeine are not doing me any favors.
Fifteen minutes before we're about to go on, my phone buzzes. I practically jump out of my skin from the sound of it. I'm supposed to have my phone turned off. Oops.
I dig in my purse for it, thankful that it was a text message and not a phone call. Even more thankful that it happened now instead of while we're filming.
When I pull my phone out, my chest throbs from seeing Croix's name on the screen. Hopefully, it means he's finally arrived. As my eyes scroll across the text, though, the softball in my throat doubles in size.
Croix: I'm sorry, but I'm not going to be able to make it. I've been sick since I woke up this morning but have been trying to push through it. When I threw up in the limo on the way to the studio, I knew I was done for. You've got this, Raven. I'll be watching on television. And know that even though I can't physically be there with you right now, I'm there in spirit.
There in spirit, huh? That doesn't mean very much to me right now.
I silently chastise myself for having a bitter reaction to the text message. If the guy is sick, he's sick. He can't help it. I wouldn't have come either if I had thrown up in my car on the way here.
I turn my phone to silent and stick it back in my purse before glancing over at Raj, who is standing on the sidelines watching the weather segment being filmed. I then look at the clock on the wall backstage, realizing that there's only ten minutes left before I go on.
“Croix's not coming,” I say as I take long strides towards Raj.
“Why not?” He blinks at me as if he was so entranced by watching the weathercaster that it's hard to focus on anything else.
“He's sick. Said he threw up in his limo.”
“Well, that's unfortunate.” Raj tilts his head to the side in thought.
“It is. And it means I'll be going on alone.” I glance at the greenscreen behind the weathercaster, hoping that Raj will get what I'm trying to subtly ask him.
“You're going to do fine.” He smiles down at me.
I clutch onto his arm, tired of pretending like I'm not desperate. “You've got to come on with me. I can't do this alone.”
“I can't.” His expression turns firm. It's a warning look, one that tells me I shouldn't push the subject any further.
“Miss Tarley, we're on in five.” One of the news crew comes to retrieve me. As he ushers me away from Raj and onto the set, I know that I have no choice but to swallow my nerves and get through this. I have to do a good job for the sake of The Billionaires Club—for the sake of everything I've worked so hard for.
***
Something strange happens when the cameras start rolling. I go on autopilot. The nervousness I felt while waiting for the segment to start all but disappears as Amanda, the host, starts talking about The Billionaires Club. The answers to her questions flow from my lips as if I've said them a million times before. I haven't said them a million times before, but I have read them almost as much, spent hours pouring over the carefully scripted responses to over a dozen subjects she could possibly bring up.
The interview could not have gone any better, and the second that the cameras stop rolling I feel an immense sense of relief. All of that worrying was for nothing. I didn't fuck it up.
“Way to go.” Raj slaps me on the shoulder as I walk backstage. “You did a good job.”
“I know I did.” I beam proudly. “Hopefully, Croix thinks so too.”
“He does.” He holds up his phone. “He's been texting me raving about what a good job you did.”
“I'm glad. I just hope I covered everything.” I touch the corner of my mouth with my index finger, going over everything I said in the interview.
We covered so much information in such a short amount of time. First, Amanda asked me exactly what The Billionaires Club is. I made sure to keep it rated G, talking about how the club is designed to service all of a woman's needs. She wiggled her eyebrows in understanding, giving the viewers a better idea of what those needs are. Then she put up a few images of the volunteering billionaires who have agreed to have their pictures used in the morning show segment. Amanda joked about how seeing their handsome faces would be enough to get her to sign up. To be honest, she was promoting the place just as much as I was, and for that I was thankful. It was nice to feel like someone wasn't against us for once. I gently reminded the audience that coming to The Billionaires Club requires a fairly large charitable donation. Then we went over the list of charities that The Billionaires Club supports and what those charities do with the money donated to them. Toward the end of the segment, we discussed what happened with the vandals. Images of the damages flashed across the screen, and I cringed internally at the thought that this promo could backfire and bring even more naysayers on board to add to the small gathering already congregated outside of the property. I spoke vehemently about why no one should be opposing us, that everything going on inside of the business is perfectly legal and taking place between consenting adults for the betterment of the organizations that we support and the local community. The segment ended on a positive note, with the surprise that Bruno was offering half off for the first fifty clients who booked their stay at the new location and mentioned that they saw the segment. All in all, it seemed like a great deal, and I could definitely see how it would drum up business.
“You covered everything and more. I'm so proud of you.” Raj pulls me into a hug. Judging by his display of affection, you'd think he owned The Billionaires Club. I appreciate the support, though.
“Well, that's that,” I say with a sigh, gently disengaging from him.
“That's that,” he parrots. “It's done and over with. Now we just have to see if it gets people booking reservations.”
“Or more people trying to burn us to the ground,” I mutter.
“Let's hope that doesn't happen.”
“Yes, let's hope.” I can't force myself to sound certain that it won't.
“The Billionaires Club opens next month. There's still a lot to get done.”
“Not as much as there was, though.” I tilt my head to the side, thinking that the bulk of the work is already done.
“Are you excited?”
I take a deep breath before answering. “Yeah, I think I am. Probably most excited about seeing what the future will hold.”